


Matters of the Heart

by Avarosso



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:49:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9563804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avarosso/pseuds/Avarosso
Summary: Takes place after Barcelona, Otabek and Yuri decided to keep in touch through Skype. Talks about European Championship and Four Continents Championship and their thoughts about their programs.Rated teen for languageUnbeta'd





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey Otabek, are you planning on entering Four Continents?” Yuri Plisetsky asked his newly found friend over Skype video call. 

***

Grand Prix Final came to an end, the Ice Tiger of Russia and the Hero of Kazakhstan parted ways as each skater returned to their respective countries to continue sharpening their skills. The season’s not over yet and each has something to prove. Each has the winning drive to bring back victory to their countries. 

Yuri returned to Russia with Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki, Victor’s fiancé cum student. There are no wedding bells this year because, duh, he took the gold. Victor promised it would be a wedding _if_ Yuuri wins gold. Well, boohoo, motherfucker. It was disgusting how the two of them seemed to cling to each other, as if they would die if they were to be apart for just an inch. He always felt like he was the third wheel whenever he was around the lovesick couple, which was why he turned to social media. He’d casually scroll his smartphone’s screen with his long slender fingers, reading news and gossips amongst the skating community. Sometimes he would double tap, liking pictures from Instagram. Sometimes he would retweet shits on Twitter. Sometimes he would switch to the front camera of his phone and took a buncha selfies and post them on social media. The last picture of himself was with the gold medal. That alone garnered around 10,000 likes in Instagram and almost 9,000 retweets and favourites on Twitter. It gave the 15-year-old life. It gave him some purpose apart from training off ice. He will be 16 next year and he accepted the fact that his body was actually changing. He also knew that he was changing on the inside, emotionally and mentally. 

***

“That’s the plan,” Otabek Altin replied on the other side of the screen. He was hugging his stuffed bear close to his chest, a wet towel hung freely atop his head, small water droplets dripped from the tips of his hair, he was fresh from shower. It was 11pm in Almaty, a 3-hour difference from where Yuri was at. “You’re going for European Championship?” Otabek knew the answer but he still had to ask anyway. 

***

This was a first for Otabek. He never had this sort of relationship with anybody before where they would freely flip their laptops open and talk through Skype. The brief moment they spent in Barcelona was still fresh. He wanted to spend more time together but he knew that was just wistful thinking. He couldn’t afford to be selfish. But damn, those few days was the happiest he had ever been. 

He was always focused on his goal. He gave up everything to pursue skating. He moved around, barely had any proper friends that he could devote to because one, he was always practicing on and off the ice, and two, he never stayed still in one place. Well, sure, he does have friends. Leo and JJ and his peers are his training buddies back when his home rink was in Canada and the US once before he went back to Almaty. Sure, he has friends that called him up for a gig at local clubs. 

But with Yuri, it was different. The two of them meeting in Barcelona was like a stroke of luck, a chance encounter. Barcelona changed him. It opened a new possibility, a door to another world, a path that he could take together with another person; whose unforgettable eyes are that of a soldier’s. He could still feel the warmth pulsating throughout his body when he decided to whisk Yuri Plisetsky off from the hordes of his fans, when he pushed Yuri his helmet, and when Yuri had his fingers wrapping themselves around his middle. He could still feel his face flush when their palms meet in a handshake and he secretly thanked the well-timed breeze for calming himself down. 

***

“Fuck yeah. Yakov said he’d go with me this season since the has-been decided to fucking announce his return, like, so late in the game.” Yuri shrugged. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table top of his room, where his laptop laid resting and brought his eyes closer to the screen. They have been doing this for the past one week or so and not a day gone by where he would regret spending time with his friend. 

It started off with texts, where Yuri realized that Otabek was someone who hardly texts. His messages were slow, whenever he saw the typing bubble, it would stay like that for a good minute or so, despite him asking Otabek about the time over in Almaty. Then it was phone call. Otabek surprised him once when Yuri was napping. It caught him by surprise and his friend apologized for it, offering to cut the call. Yuri stopped him in time and this went on for several weeks after. Yuri felt that he should take this friendship into another level and asked if Otabek would be okay if they were to Skype instead. Otabek obliged. The first time was embarrassing, the two of them felt into a welcomed silence as they stare at each other through the camera, smiling. 

And so, their routine would revolve around texting during practice, calling during lunch and occasional Skyping. Yuri would come back dead tired and he would see a message on his phone, asking him if he wanted to Skype and they would talk, just like now. Every time they Skyped, Yuri felt all the exhaustion dissipate. Skyping wasn’t always talking for them. No. Sometimes, they would just leave the video call on and they would be doing their own work, on or off screen and they would return to face one another afterwards only to smile and talk calling it a night. It was always Yuri who ended the call because he felt that he was keeping Otabek away from his rest. 

***

“How’s your day?” Yuri asked the usual question. Just then, Yuri’s Himalayan cat jumped on the table top and stepped onto his keyboard, her furry body blocking Otabek’s view, meowing. Yuri heard Otabek chuckle. “What the hell, girl? Get off! Wait, let me get her off.” Yuri lifted the cat and placed him on his lap instead before propping his elbows on the table again. 

“Pretty good. I landed most of my jumps. I under-rotated my quad loop though, but I’ll be ready for Four Continents.” Otabek’s tone came out as confident as he nodded. He slouched as he brought the bear closer to himself and rested his chin on its head. Yuri could see that Otabek’s feature was somewhat unkempt. Stubbles showed sign of growing around his lower jaw and if he’d just squint his eyes, he could see dark circles forming under his eyes. Man, HD sure is nice. He was rather impressed at how he could have focused on such detail over the screen. “Don’t fucking lie, Otabek. You don’t look good!” Yuri leaned away and pointed his index finger accusingly at the man. “You haven’t gotten enough rest, haven’t you? What’s wrong?” 

“It’s just…I can’t seem to get into the feeling of the programs anymore. Not yet anyway. It doesn’t seem right.” He pulled the towel from his head, revealing his tousled black locks, he exhaled. “I’m fine, don’t worry. I did get enough rest. Skating’s fine. The program’s fine. It’s...it’s a matter of interpretation. I’m at loss, now, Yuri.” Otabek gazed pleadingly at Yuri. “I get what I’m supposed to do, but something is missing. Something feels off.” He was genuinely confused. His eyebrows creased, as though he was in pain yet he knew deep inside his heart the reason why. He just doesn’t have the gall to admit it. To admit to the fact that Yuri had a lot to do with his journey as a skater now. Before Grand Prix, he had walked the path alone. He travelled, trained, and competed alone. His sole purpose was to bring his country glory. To own competitions, to lift Kazakhstan to the eyes of the world. Everything in his program is centred on him winning, emblazed with scorching flames of passion, heralding victory, all by himself. Now, however, he chose to nip at the slight chink in his armour, letting the wave of new emotions flood his vessel.Now that he had tasted the forbidden fruit that is Yuri Plisetsky, he can no longer feel the same burning passion he had had before. It was different now. He was conscious of him. He no longer has a reason to be alone, to compete alone, to win alone. He has Yuri now. He has a friend. A rival. Someone he can share his most intimate secrets with, given time. Secrets he hasn’t yet shared with his fellow skaters, no matter how privy they are about his private life. He knew all of this, but he knew if he were to say it to him, it would burst the floodgates open and there will be no turning back. And so, he pleaded with his eyes, like a confused puppy. 

“Otabek…” Yuri ran his fingers through his blond strands. Watching his friend being depressed over this isn’t sitting well with him. “I…you know, I suck at interpretation too.” He paused. No, that’s not right. Yuri was stringing his words while bringing his hand to his nape, unsure what to say. The thing about Yuri is that when he got uncomfortable, he would turn his head sideways, avoiding gazes from other people. He would instinctively bring his hand to his nape, trying to buy some time for him to construct words in his head. His eyebrows would furrow as if he was deep in thought and he would click his tongue in frustration, but it was only because he was beginning to fucking care so much. But, he wasn’t good in this kind of shit. Advising people was not his strong suit. It’s for people like Victor and Yuuri (read: Pork Cutlet Bowl). Yuri was always the poster child of a rebellious teenager. “It took me a while to get understand Agape. Heck, my FS program doesn’t require me to do much interpretation at all.” He shrugged again. “I’m not sure what’s going on your head, Otabek, but you gotta pull your shit together if you’re going to compete in Four Continents. That bastard JJ is there too, you know.” He knew that his half-baked advice doesn’t do this justice but he was really, really bad at comforting people. 

“Yeah, I know. I guess I just need to organize my thoughts.” Otabek nodded. He straightened up and gave Yuri the warmest smile. 

“You’ll win gold for sure!” Yuri smiled from ear-to-ear, but he couldn’t ignore the pang in his heart when he saw how charming Otabek was, flashing his smile like that. He had secretly hoped that the smile was exclusively for him and for no one else. How he wished he could have pressed the screenshot button to capture this rare moment but he was frozen in his tracks. Not only did the smile melted the icecaps in his heart, it also rendered him speechless and at awe. God, would he kill to have a friend like Otabek. How he wished he had paid attention to him five years ago. But fuck all that. What’s important is the now. It was fate that brought them together. It was skating that meted them. Yuri Plisetsky knew that he was changing. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. He didn’t blame his racing heart, his burning cheeks and his thoughts that Otabek Altin is actually kinda, sorta hot. But hell, he would never come out and say it. 

“Thanks, Yuri.” Otabek nodded. There was a brief silence among them as they gaze at each other. Separated by pixels forming on a digital screen, flat to the touch. He brought his face to his bear again and huffed. Yuri found it adorable that Otabek was actually into stuffed bear. Wait. What? Adorable? Otabek? Did Yuri just say Otabek’s…adorable? What the fuck. 

“S-So!” His voice came a bit squeaky as he tried to break the awkward silence. “You know those two idiots? They’re at it again.” Otabek knew who Yuri meant and simply nodded. “It was supposed to be training session but the two hogged the fucking ice! What the fuck? You don’t own the ice! I need to train too! So, like, in the end, I only did off ice jump practices.” 

“It’s tough having to deal with a coach and a competitor at the same time.” 

“Ugh. It’s just so sickening. They should just get a fucking room. They don’t have to flaunt it every time. I know Yakov is secretly pissed too, but his boy Victor is back, so I guess he’s just bottling his damn feelings in.” Otabek internally admitted that he actually found Yuri complaining to be rather amusing. He doesn’t curse as much compared to Yuri, rather, not at all, but he doesn’t mind it. A small price to pay for a possibly long friendship. It was actually refreshing to have someone younger and more dynamic than him in terms of everyday life. He lived in an environment where the only thrill he got was when he was skating on the ice and mixing his tunes off the ice. 

“Yeah. Damn it, I have to admit, for a has-been, he sure picked up where he left off and owned Russian Championship. But whatever. I’ll win gold again!” Yuri exclaimed. 

“I’m rooting for you.” Otabek responded and brought his hand to the screen, with his fingers balled to a fist before popping his thumb and Yuri instantly knew. He mimicked the thumbs-up accompanied by loud, unadulterated laughter. “Davai.”

“Davai!” Yuri echoed. He decided it was time to end the video call. It was always the saddest part. He wanted to talk to Otabek more but he knew both of them had practice early in the morning, even more so for Otabek. Time difference was really their only obstacle and he felt he had to be the better friend and made sure he was well rested.

“Goodnight, Yuri.”

“Night. Now get your ass to bed. Also, clean up. It's not like you to grow hair on your face.” Yuri brought his palm to his own jaw and rubbing his smooth baby-like skin, gesturing at the growing stubbles Otabek was beginning to accumulate. 

“I will. Tomorrow.” His friend nodded.

Now, Yuri was left to his own devices. He laid on his back and caught his phone in his hand. It happened all the time. The feeling of loss every time he ended the call. Somehow, he felt Otabek’s presence has left a fucking big hole in his heart and Otabek’s the only one who can fill it up, empty it again, fill it up, and empty it again. It felt like Yuri was stuck in an endless loop of feeling elated to miserable to bored to empty. As the trains of emotions reached their stations, Yuri would often turn back to social media to keep himself occupied. Eventually, he couldn’t keep his eyelids open much longer and succumbed to sleep for the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's getting distracted about his program. Was he bothered about what Otabek told him over Skype?

“Yuri! What’s wrong with you today?” Yakov screamed from the top of his lungs outside of the ice, clearly, he wasn’t happy with Yuri’s performance today. Heck, even Yuri himself wasn’t happy about his performance at all. He swore that he had enough sleep, he did his warmups, and yet now, here on the ice, he felt like shit. The moment he stepped out of his house and jogged his way to the rink, he was already feeling somewhat moody. When he reached the locker room and changed into his skating gear, he was grumbling under his breath, and when he was on the ice, he felt like he was having period mood swings. Nothing went right. He flubbed a lot of his jumps, even the easy jumps he was _supposed_ to land with perfection. His head throbbed when he heard his coach yelled at him. That noisy old man. Even his rink mates teased him for his little accidents as he skated past them. Bitches.

“Shut up!” he barked before he begrudgingly skated around the rink, trying to calm himself down. Yuri Plisetsky was hypersensitive that day. Everything irritated him. He swore he felt that he could snap at the drop of a pin on the ice. He decided to attempt a triple axel again but he stepped out and aimed to try again, only to tumble across the ice. It somehow brought back memories during Rostelecom Cup, when he missed his landing. Damn it.

“What’s wrong with Yurio? I heard him scream from the locker room.” a familiar voice echoed. Yakov, who was standing at the edge of the rink with his arms crossed, turned to his back and saw two men, being unsurprisingly intimate, emerging from the entrance, in their skating gear. Victor Nikiforov had his arm around Yuuri Katsuki's shoulder as they walked towards the rink.

Yakov harrumphed and with his head, motioned towards the ice where Yuri was. “I don’t know what’s wrong with the kid today. He doesn’t seem like himself today. What do you think, Vitya?”

Victor and Yuuri joined Yakov to observe the young skater. “Hmm,” Victor then placed his index finger under his lower lip in contemplation. “When you said he doesn’t seem like himself, I thought you were joking. We clearly heard his scream just now and that’s normal.” He chuckled. “But this…” he paused, observed Yuri’s performance for a little bit more. His pupils tracked the movement of the lithe figure in front of him. Watched him tumble, watched him rise, watched him take off, watched him flub his landing, before turning to the bespectacled man beside him. “He does seem a bit put-off today, right?”

“That was what Yakov said, Victor.” Yuuri sighed. But, Yuuri fell silent as he heard the spike of toe pick against ice, followed by a familiar thud of body colliding against hard surface. He turned from Victor to the ice. “I think we should call him back. He’s going to get seriously injured if we don’t.” he suggested. “Victor, call him back.” His fiancé asked, elbowing him lightly.

Victor nodded and stepped to the edge of the rink, clapping his hand loudly. “Okay, that’s enough, Yurio. Get off the ice.”

***

Yuri was beating himself to the ground as he attempted time and time again to land a jump. He got lucky that he was able to land his quadruple salchow, but that was just a fluke. He thought his mood has improved and attempted the salchow again but tripped and he was forced to skate around the rink again. He circled the rink to achieve momentum, wondering why he was feeling so fucking pissed off that day, like he woke up at the wrong side of the bed, or something. Yuri remembered his conversation with Otabek, about his dilemma on the execution of his program. He forced his train of thoughts to stop before attempting to do the quadruple salchow again. He fell. Yuri would brace himself before his body could come in contact with the ice, usually, but this time he allowed his body to tumble and he remained down. He got up to his knees, slammed his fist on the ice, with clenched teeth trying to understand whether his performance today was affected by what Otabek has said through Skype or not. Was he bothered by what he said? No. He didn’t think so. But he felt that it could be the reason. He should talk to him tonight. Or better yet, he’d text him later.

Yuri got up on his feet again in an attempt to try a different jump. He should at least properly _land_ a jump. “Okay, toe loop,” he muttered. His renewed conviction of wanting to get clarification motivated him to at least complete the program’s training. He faintly heard the skating rink door open and then heard the indistinct chatter outside of the rink. “Great, they must be talking about how fucked up I am,” Yuri groaned as he attempted the toe loop. He felt that he could land this one; he felt it in his gut. He was determined to go to the benches, grab his phone, text his friend in Almaty and rant about it. In just a few moments, and then –

Thud! His body met the cold hard ice again and he was ready to give it another go when he heard the loud clapping calling his stupid nickname. Stupid, because he was christened with that awful name by Pork Cutlet Bowl’s sister, Mari, back when he went on a trip in search for Victor in Hasetsu, Japan. Stupid, because there was no logic in adding another alphabet behind his name just so she could tell him and his brother apart. But damn, that name stuck to him and everyday was hell whenever Victor or Pork Cutlet Bowl was around, his ears would burn at the sound of the name. He mentally tormented himself whenever he responded to ‘Yurio’. Old habits die hard, maybe.

***

“Shit.” Yuri figured he might as well listen to Victor. He picked himself up and skated towards the edge of the rink where Victor, Yuuri and Yakov were waiting. He ignored Pork Cutlet Bowl’s greeting and walked past him towards the bench. He dug his duffle bag and took his phone out. As usual, it was flooded with notification. Tags, mentions, comments, likes, retweets. How he lived for this attention but he ignored them and tapped on the messaging app, looking for Otabek’s chat head.

“What was that, Yurio?” Victor approached him. _God, here it comes._

“Not my day, I guess,” Yuri shrugged, ignoring Victor and began typing furiously.

“Yurio.” Victor’s tone grew serious and Yuri knew he should stop what he was doing and look up. Quickly tapping the ‘Send’ button, he slammed his phone on the bench. Giving the man who decided to conveniently forget his promise made a few years back a death glare. “What was that?”

“I don’t fucking know!” he growled.

“Did you have something in your mind, Yurio?” Yuuri asked. “I’m like that too, I tend to –”

“Well I’m not you, pig.”

“Yurio.” Victor reprimanded. His icy blue eyes bore deep into Yuri’s emerald ones. There was no ‘playful Victor’ this time. Yuri knew that Victor was seriously pissed. He’s just wasn’t sure if it was about him calling his fiancé ‘pig’ or about his training that day. “Yuuri’s right. You’re distracted now. Until you clear your head, you’re not allowed to step into the ice.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Yuri stood up, puffing his chest against Victor in protest. Although, it looked more like he was a cornered dog because deep down, he knew that Victor was right. He was distracted. But he refused to be like Pork Cutlet Bowl, whose emotions are painfully obvious. Whose emotions directly affected his performance.

“Enough!” Yakov dissolved the confrontation, his bulky hands pushing against his students’ chests, parting them. “Yuri. Vitya’s right. You’re doing off ice practice. Vitya, go to the ice.” he instructed. Victor smiled and backed away. He took Yuuri by his hand and led him to the ice. “I said _you_ go to the ice, not Katsuki!”

“But I’m his coach and I say we step to the ice. Together!” Victor responded in a singsong tone.

“Well, I’m your coach and you’d better listen to me! Vitya! Stop!” Yuri bit his lower lip when he saw Yakov making his way to the edge of the rink bitching at his student skating with his student’s student. It pissed Yuri off that they got to practice on the ice today just because he wasn’t, air-quote, feeling like himself. They’re not even competing in European Championships. He was pissed that he was made to practice off ice again today, all because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check. Kicking the bench, he took his phone and walked to the end of the rink where he would always practice and sat at the nearby bench. Checking his phone, he saw Otabek’s reply to his message.

> “I’m sorry, Yuri. I shouldn’t have troubled you with my problems. Now you’re affected too.”

Yuri clicked his tongue. He felt like a bad guy for making Otabek feel guilty. Hell, it wasn’t his intention at all.

> “No. Dammit. I didn’t mean it like that!”
> 
> “Then what do you mean?”
> 
> “I don’t know.”
> 
> “Maybe I should rethink my programs too.”
> 
> “I guess.”
> 
> “Want to talk about it? I’m free tonight.”
> 
> “Hell yeah.”
> 
> “See you same time?
> 
> “’kay.”

Yuri placed his phone on the bench and began to practice his jumps, secretly wishing the time would turn faster so that he could just go home, relax, and talk with his best friend. Yep. It’s official. They’re best friends now. He was kinda happy to have someone to talk to and to relate with. He knew that Otabek is 3 years older than him and he was fucking mature for a guy his age but he saw how Otabek was really like. Behind that stoic face was a gentle man, who put up with his still-childish attitude and treated him like his age, and not how other people see him as. He doesn’t see Yuri as a cutesy girl, or a prima ballerina, or the Russian Fairy. He saw Yuri as a man, the Ice Tiger of Russia, someone with the eyes of the soldier or something like that, whatever that meant. He treated him just like what he is. A man. 

***

“I think I’m losing sight of my programs too.” Yuri told his friend over Skype as he dried his hair over shower. He was sitting cross-legged at the edge of his queen-sized bed with his cat taking over the pillow next to his laptop. “Piggy said I was distracted. That’s why I couldn’t land my jumps. But I’ve been able to pull the jumps even while being side-tracked?” he scratched his head in frustration.

“As I thought. I’m at fault.” Otabek was sitting on the floor of his living room, his laptop on the coffee table. He had his arms on the table. His concerned brown orbs stared at Yuri. He exhaled and pursed his lips. He was bothered that his Russian friend was feeling this way just because he confided his insecurities. Otabek didn’t want Yuri to feel that he should shoulder his burden. He was sure his friend already has a lot going on his mind. Truth be told, Otabek was slightly bothered that day during practice too when he received the message, but he felt that by telling Yuri, it will only bother him more, and so, he chose silence.

“What the hell, no! That’s not it, Otabek.” Yuri slammed the towel he was using to dry his hair onto the cushiony mattress, disheveling his hair. “Y’know what? We should discuss what our programs really mean for us. I know that you’re fucking bothered about it too. It’s all over your face!” Yuri pointed accusingly. “Let’s cut the crap and start.” A brief pause. Stomach grumbling, audible even through Otabek’s speakers.

“I think we’ll start after dinner.” Otabek replied, a hint of amusement evident in his voice.

“I’m just –” 

“Go on. Have your dinner. I’ll wait. I had mine.”

“You’re a damn good guy, Otabek. Be right back.” Yuri stood up and jumped off his mattress before he disappeared to the kitchen.

Otabek smiled when he saw his friend’s form walked out off screen and propped his elbow on the table to rest his chin on his palm. He waited silently while his eyes are taking into the sight of Yuri’s room. It was total chaos as opposed to his tidied up one. He saw the leopard print luggage at the edge of his bed, its top wide open, its inside overflowing with lazily folded clothes. He chuckled as he saw the majority of Yuri’s clothes consisted of lion head and tiger head prints in different colour schemes. At least, the ones that he could see. He was sure the one he wore the first time they met was a…panther’s head? The rest consisted of hooded tees, hooded jackets, scarves, and varsity jackets, some with leopard prints on them was spread out in an organized mess at different corners of the room. Are they leopard though? Or are they cheetah? Or jaguar? He has no idea. He saw one of Yuri’s sneakers next to his laundry hamper, and he wondered where the other pair was. His field of vision was limited by the radius of the webcam but he felt he had just peeked into the unknown world of Yuri Plisetsky. He pretty much now knew about Yuri’s fashion aesthetics from Instagram (yes they follow each other) and it was actually refreshing. He felt his own aesthetics was rather bland in comparison. His choices of earthy coloured apparels a stark contrast between Yuri’s colour palette of bright and prominent. There were so many differences between them but he would prefer it to be different than same.

Yuri’s cat has taken hold of one of his pillows in front of the camera and was grooming her long and undoubtedly soft coat. Otabek smiled at the sight of the cat. He clicked his tongue in an attempt to draw her attention and it unexpectedly worked. The Himalayan stopped grooming and had her icy blue eyes locked onto his before standing up and walking towards the laptop, nuzzling the camera with its snout. He heard the cat’s purring and he called the cat softly to which she responded with a loud meow. He wasn’t particularly against having pets but he felt that that responsibility that entailed into owning pets could not be fulfilled by him. He hardly ever stays in one place throughout his growth, as an individual or as a skater. He felt that playing with his neighbour’s dogs and cats in the morning would suffice to satiate his desire of owning one. The drawbacks of traveling around.

“Okay, I’m back! Ugh Potya get off!” Otabek heard Yuri’s voice followed by his cat’s meow. Soon, his obstructed view, cleared up and he saw Yuri’s form carrying the cat away.  


“Potya?” he asked. He wanted know the rascal’s name because, that’s a friend thing to do.

“Puma Tiger Scorpion. Cute, isn’t she? It took you this fucking long to ask for her name.” he laughed.

Otabek’s lips formed an honest smile as he shrugged. “It slipped my mind.” 

“Pfft, yeah right.”

Otabek didn't take to account Yuri's naming sense. He stared at Puma Tiger Scorpion and then to her owner. He decided that Puma Tiger Scorpion was a mouthful and so, he relented. "Potya's cute."

"I know right? She's the best!" Yuri got onto his bed and crossed his legs again before turning his full attention towards Otabek. “Kay, let’s start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! Thank you for the kudos! I love you guys!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri and Otabek found their motivation, each of them trying to rethink their approach on their short program before the championships. Their friends/peers dropping hints, them contemplating.

Agape. Unconditional love. The highest form of love. The love of God for man and man for God. Agape. Self-sacrificing love. Selfless love.

Yuri Plisetsky struggled with this theme for the longest of time. From when Victor choreographed the program for him in Hasetsu, to the podium that crowned him champion. Agape, he thought, was the unconditional love he has towards his grandpa. Agape, he thought, was the selfless love he has towards Katsuki Yuuri, in an attempt to pull him back to competitive skating despite his plans on retiring. He succeeded, but it wasn’t entirely because of his skating. It was Katsuki Yuuri’s own resolve. Of course, Victor Nikiforov played a part in it too. Everyone’s subtle encouragement brought him back to skating. Agape. What does it mean to him now?

Yuri knew what it meant for him now. But he had to make sure it was. He’d need to rethink. He stood at the centre of the rink with his eyes closed. “Agape. What does it mean?” he asked himself as the music began playing. “Love for my grandpa?” Left hand rising. “Is that only it?” Turn. Both hands rising. Backward crossover. “What unconditional love?” Triple axel. Perfect. “What about Otabek?” Flying sit spin. “Yeah. What about him?” Catch-foot spiral. “He’s a friend, isn’t he?” Quadruple Salchow. Triple toe loop. “Or is he more? Is he?” Quadruple toe loop. Step sequence. “Is he?” Combination spin. “Is he?” Hands clasped, rising. “Is he?”

The music faded. His struggled breathing echoed throughout the rink. His coach, Victor, Pork Cutlet Bowl, Mila, Georgi and his other rink-mates stared at awe at the performance. He brought his hands down, limp. As he regained his breathing, he looked around at the awestruck people before skating towards the exit. “What?” he barked. Yakov growled under his breath. “Why are you guys being creepy?” he stepped out from the ice and walked towards the bench, routinely taking out his phone to check on updates.

“Yurio.” Oh fuck. What the hell is wrong now? Why is Victor in front of him again? He landed his jumps, his short program was perfect. He tapped the messaging app and scrolled over Otabek’s chat head as usual. His thumb paused after tapping in the chat box. The Cyrillic keyboard popped out, but he could form no word. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he tapped the home screen and put his phone to sleep before slamming it onto the bench, turning his attention to the towering man in front of him.

“That agape. What was that?” Victor asked.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Well,” Victor motioned Yuuri, who talking with Yakov towards him. The two men walked towards him, crowding Yuri. Mila and Georgi followed suit, and soon, Yuri’s rink-mate began flocking around him.

“W-What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” Yuri had his shoulders slumped as he stared flabbergasted at the people surrounding him.

“That agape was even better than the GPF!” Victor gleefully exclaimed. “Looks like you found your true agape, Yurio!” he clapped his hands.

“Truest agape!” Yuuri added. The people flocking him too applauded.

“What are you guys, like, high? What true agape?” Yuri stood up, retreating to the walls.

Yakov drew everyone’s attention when he clapped his hands, dispersing the crowd. “Yuri. That was beautiful. I don’t know how it happened but if you keep that up, you’re a sure win for European Championships.” The elderly man then turned to his students. “Okay, back to training. Go on.”

“Yuri skated like he was in love or something, right Georgi?” Mila playfully nudged her friend. Georgi smiled. A hint of blush apparent on his cheeks as he nodded. “It looks like Yuri found someone he loved?”

“Huh!? Don’t fuck with me, hag!” Yuri pointed accusingly at Mila and Georgi, to which they ignored.

“Kidding, kidding! But who are we to tell, right? Who knows. It might be that Kazakh’s Hero? That dreamboat, that heartthrob, the man that every woman would want to date?” His friend continued. Her hands clasped to her heart, an infatuated sigh escaped her full round lips. This irked Yuri for reasons unknown. Was it jealousy? No. It can’t be. Why would he be jealous if Otabek found someone. As his best friend, he’d totally support him. Yeah. He totally would. “After all,” Mila continued, snapping Yuri from his reverie. “You were caught riding with him in Barcelona.”

“That –”

“That what? Hmm?” Mila brought her hands down but placed her right on her hips. Grinning.

“That was –” Come to think of it, why did Otabek rescue him that day. More importantly, how did he know he was there in that alley in the first place? Did he stalk him or something? He never really heard about it from Otabek. He was just glad that he escaped his ravenous fans, at the expense of their picture taken and shared in every social media site available.

“Oh wow, Yuri, you got a scary look on your face. Mila. Stop teasing the boy.” Georgi decided it was his time to save the day. He had his hand on Mila’s shoulder and tapped it lightly. “Let’s practice.”

“Figure it out, champ. I’m sure you know why.” Mila shrugged before turning a cheeky smirk and followed Georgi towards the ice.

Yuri stood aghast at what had just happened. That bitch. Who the hell does she think she is? She left him with questions about his feeling towards Otabek. He ran his fingers through his hair, a frustrated look adorned his face. With clenched teeth, he muttered under his breath. “I know, damn it.” Because, really, he knew. He sat and took his phone, to his shock, he saw a message on Otabek’s chat head.

> “Yuri, I did it. I landed my jumps.”

Yuri smiled. He knew that the talk they had a few nights back was the breakthrough the two of them needed. He was supposed to tell him first. Shit. Otabek beat him to it.

> “Damn it Otabek, I wanted to tell you first!”
> 
> “But fuck it, I landed mine too!”
> 
> “I beat you this time.”
> 
> “Heh, I guess you did.”
> 
> “I guess the talk last time worked to your advantage?”
> 
> “Hell yeah!”
> 
> “Thanks, Otabek.”
> 
> “Anytime, Yuri.”
> 
> “You wanna Skype tonight?”
> 
> “Sure. Same time?”
> 
> “You bet.”

***

Otabek placed his phone in his duffle bag after the message. He couldn’t contain his excitement for that night’s Skype call. He was already happy that he had completed Samarkand Overture, his short program, with perfection. Even his coach was impressed. Even he was impressed with himself, and he owed it all to his Russian friend.

“What’s gotten into you, Otabek? A week back, you were flubbing here and there, but now look at you. You look like a winner, already. Four Continents will be a promising one this year.” His coach complimented.

“Thank you, coach.” Otabek simply nodded. He doesn’t have to let his coach know where his motivation was from, but it was actually thanks to his coach’s words that he had figured everything out. He remembered getting lectured by his coach a week back. He remembered his coach trying to console him when he was down. He didn’t place in the top 3 in Barcelona, but that didn’t actually faze him. He knew he will take gold in the next championship, if not the next season GP. But his coach’s words struck a chord when he mentioned about realigning what the program meant for him. He actually gave it a serious thought. He reflected everything that had happened in Barcelona. The competition, what he lacked. He lost by quite a margin against JJ, placing him fourth, despite the Canadian’s poor score for his SP. Plus, after he voiced his concern to Yuri, he knew he found his focus.

He recalled everything that had happened in the side line. His first eye contact with Yuri in the hotel lobby. Him kidnapping Yuri. Him shaking hands with Yuri. Them sitting at the café, facing each other as they spoke about themselves. Them cheering each other with thumbs up and ‘давай!’s during each other’s competition. Him watching Yuri’s gala performance. Their brief moment during the banquet. Them parting ways at the airport. Them exchanging numbers. He realized that he wasn’t alone anymore, and so, he used that as his drive and completely changed the flow of his short program parallel to his fateful encounter with Yuri Plisetsky. 

It took some internal beating on himself so that he was able to finally, openly accept that his program will be more focused on his journey with Yuri instead of him alone. During the training, as he stood at the centre of the rink, he took a deep breath and the song played. “Samarkand, one of the greatest city,” Spin. Backward crossover. “Flourishing in the ancient days.” Quadruple toe loop. Triple toe loop. “Then, she was conquered.” Sit spin. “She was conquered countlessly by other power. Shifted from one power to another. Never settling down.” Step sequence. Triple axel. Perfect. “She found home in the hands of a man who made her his capital.” Quadruple Salchow. “He made her beautiful, but he also built walls to keep enemies away.” Doughnut spin. “And soon she fell to another’s hands again.” Step sequence. “But this time, she was complete.” Right arm extended upwards, left arm at the hip, left leg extended out. Samarkand Overture, done.

With laboured breathing, he skated towards the end, grabbing the towel that hung at the boards before he stepped off the ice. His rink-mates applauded at the completion. He was feeling somewhat proud at it too. He knew his resolution, his conviction. He knew that if he carries this feeling to Four Continents, he will stand a chance. But he still has his FS program to worry about. He would have to talk to Yuri about that too.

It was lunch in Almaty but he knew it wasn’t in Saint Petersburg. He’d usually wait for Yuri to call but he was feeling somewhat antsy. He dialled Yuri’s number and placed the phone next to his ear. He took a sip from his bottle when he heard the familiar voice. “Otabek?” it was typical of Yuri to call his name instead of a proper ‘hello’.

“Did I call at the wrong time?” he asked while he placed his bottle next to his duffle bag.

“N-no. I’m just – surprised? You never call first.”

“I got nothing to do now. My coach said I should just do physical conditioning afterwards.”

“Cool. What did you have for lunch?”

“Nothing fancy just chicken and salad. It’s not lunchtime over there yet, right?”

“Yeah. But I’m hungry as fuck.”

“What do you plan on eating?”

“Whatever’s at the cafeteria.”

“Heh. I thought you’d be having pirozhki.”

“What’s wrong with pirozhki?”

“Nothing. I just thought it’d be nice to taste your grandfather’s pirozhkis. I heard it’s good.”

“Hell yeah, it is! No one makes pirozhkis as good as gramps!”

“I’m sure it tastes great.”

“You bet your ass it does! Oh fuck. I gotta go. Victor’s bitching. Talk to you soon?”

“Sure. Take care.”

With the phone call over, Otabek placed his phone into his bag again and rested. He felt as if a great burden has been lifted off his chest whenever he talked with Yuri. At times like this, he would simply lie on his back and snooze for a while before resuming physical conditioning, disregarding his heart’s condition. Now, with a new routine, he felt more energized than ever in his training.

“Phone call?” he heard his coach’s voice. 

“Um, yes.” He nodded, somewhat reserved. This was the first time he was caught while on the phone by his coach.

“A lover?” his coach teased.

“W-What? N-no! It’s a friend!” Otabek was flustered now as he tried to fend for himself.

“Relax, Otabek, I’m joking!” his coach let out a hearty laughter and joined him on the bench. “It’s that Russian kid, right? The one who cheered for you out from the bleachers?” He nodded. “It’s good that you’ve made friends. I know it was hard for you, but you can relax now. You’re finally home. Make more friends, mingle more.” He nodded again. “Now’s the time for love too, you know.” He was paralyzed. “I’m not saying that you have to find one.” He exhaled. “It’s just a prospect, you see. Who knows, it might improve your program further.” He lowered his head. “Whatever your decision is, I’ll support it. I’m sure your parents will too. Well, rest up, my boy.” He watched as his coach stood up, patting him lightly on the shoulder and walked away.

“Make friends…and find love?” he repeated what his coach had said. Shaking off his thoughts, he laid on his back with his forearm covering his eyes, letting his thoughts drift at the ‘prospect’ that his coach had given to him. It won’t work. Yuri doesn’t see him that way. He had zero experience in friendship, let alone love. Things are better left this way. It was the only way he knew how to cope. Soon tiredness loom and he dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Love you all~
> 
> P/S: I think I totally ruin their SP in this *sobs*

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing. YOI has taken over my life and I'm so fucking crazy about Otayuri. So here's to contributing to the fandom.
> 
> More tags will be added in the future!
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Sorry for my bad English OAO


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